


Lambkin John Watson

by my_3am_materials



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Annoyed Sherlock Holmes, Experiment, First Try, Gift Fic, Kid!John, Sassy Sherlock, Sorry Not Sorry, Tea, Total AU, clueless lestrade, dead!John not so dead, please let us know if you like it, protective Sally, really fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_3am_materials/pseuds/my_3am_materials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happenes when John gets anti-ageing treatment, Lestrade is confused, and Sherlock is exasperated that everyone has to be so slow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Lestrade, meet John"

„Sherlock. “ Lestrade asked as professionally as he could right now. “Who is the kid?”

Sherlock blinked at him and said: “Why, it’s John of course.” Like it was the most obvious thing it the universe, as if he had any idea what the universe look like.

Lestrade took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm himself not to hit Sherlock in the face, not in front of the kid.

The kid was sitting in one of the armchairs, coincidentally John’s, and was drinking tea. He was somewhere between eight to ten years of age, and with his short blond hair and blue-something eyes, he looked just like John’s son. No, he was too similar. Like his clone.

Except it wasn’t possible. John was gone.

It all went down on the last case, some mad scientists creating new experimental drugs or whatnot. Everything was going good, until they kidnapped John.¨

Lestrade grimaced. When they apprehended them, it really wasn’t pretty. ‘Sherlock looked like some sort of avenging angel.’ Lestrade shook his head. ‘No, scrap it. He looked like the demon from hell.’

They tried to interrogate them in the meantime, the scientist just laughed in their faces. Then Mycroft’s agents had shown up, taking them to some ‘safe location’. Sherlock went with them.

Lestrade shuddered. The next time he saw Sherlock, he wasn’t wearing his coat. When Lestrade pointed it out and asked Sherlock about it, the only answer was that it was at the drycleaners. Because he couldn’t remove all of the blood himself.

He got some new information, though.

There was a secret room in a lab. They got inside, they had to break down a wall, and they found a small white room with a little kid inside it. The kid regarded them with cold calculating gaze, curling his hands into small fists. He hadn’t relaxed until he saw Sherlock and even then he was tense whole way to the hospital. Sherlock went with him, holding his hand whole way.

Lestrade gritted his teeth. “I am going to ask you one last time, Sherlock. Who. Is. The. Kid?”

Sherlock slightly frowned at him. “It. Is. A. John. Why are you even asking, it’s self-evident.” He leaned in, mimicking face of concern. “Are you okay Lestrade. Do you need help with anything? I know one very superb private clinic, if you want.”

Lestrade frowned. “What are you saying?”

Sherlock was now speaking softly. “It is not anything to be ashamed of, Lestrade. A lot of men in your years suffered at least from one mental breakdown.”

Now, Lestrade stood in the middle of the living room, shouting. “I don’t have any mental breakdown, Sherlock! You are the one to thinking your best friend and flatmate got turned into a little kid! A little kid who can’t even speak due to the trauma he endured!”

“On the contrary, Detective Inspector, if you can’t even recognize one of your consultants and friends whilst looking a little bit unusual, I am really worried for the standards of the New Scotland Yard’s finest.” Sherlock was enjoying sassing Lestrade. Both of them were fully absorbed in the dispute.

Shattering tea cup, however, called them back to the reality.

They both looked at the kid.

Kid’s face was bright red and he was laughing violently, now sporting hiccups. After few minutes he got it at least partly under control.

He looked intently at Lestrade.

“Greg,” he began, “don’t go into rows you can’t win. And with Sherlock, it’s none of them.”

Yup, that voice was nothing like a kid. Too deep. More like a war veteran after fifteen years of active service.

“John?!” Lestrade stuttered.

John-kid smiled. “Hello Greg. How are you doing? Do you want a cuppa?”

“But how?!” Lestrade couldn’t understand.

“One of the main goals of the experiments was to revert flow of time, to cure ageing, to come one step closer.” John-kid retorted grimly. “And they needed at least one subject to test their hypothesis. Me.”

Lestrade sat dumbly on the couch. “Why you?”

John-kid shrugged. “Dunno. I suppose I was on hand. Asking intrusive questions around neighbourhood.” He shot a glare towards Sherlock. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to put you into danger. I thought this will be the best way to keep you out of trouble.” Sherlock started apologising.

John-kid shook his head. “That is not important right now. I just want to be the way I was before. To be tall again.”

“Well,” Sherlock contradicted.

“Shut up Sherlock, you know what I mean!”

Lestrade tried to insert himself in the conversation again. “While this is really interesting and all, I have to ask. How do we reverse it?”

Sherlock smiled. “No idea.”

Lestrade’s phone buzzed. He read the new text message. “There is a new body. You coming?”

“Can John go with us?”

Lestrade stopped halfway through the door. “No, absolutely not! No, no, no, no. no. That is a bad idea.”

 


	2. "Sally, leave John alone"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John on the crime scene. 
> 
> What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> Little hint: What couldn't?

‘This is a bad idea,’ Lestrade thought as he neared the crime scene.

Don’t ask, but somehow Sherlock and John reasoned him into agreeing to let John to go along with them.

That wasn’t a problem. It was completely understandable, to someone hopefully.

The thing was, he was forbidden to tell anyone who John really was, the younger version of himself, unless he obtained permission from John first. None of the Yarders except him was at the lab, it was strictly government matter¨.

And he was here. Lestrade sighed and gone out of the car. With tired eyes he saw the pair, John and Sherlock, exiting the cab, Sherlock actually paying this time. Both were as happy as children at a Boxing Day. Sherlock even more so.

‘Here we go.’ With the final thought, Lestrade approached the crime scene, meeting wide-eyed Donovan.

“Sir, who is _that_?” she asked, sounding once genuinely concerned.

“Just let it go, Donovan,” Lestrade whispered.

“But sir…”

“Just. Let. It. Go.” Lestrade pleaded desperately.

That shut Donovan, for about three seconds, then she looked worriedly over Lestrade. “What does he have on you? You wouldn’t be acting like this unless something was wrong.”

“It’s nothing!” Lestrade shrugged her off. ‘Of course, it shouldn’t be possible to rejuvenate someone but hey, it is.’

Donovan continued dubiously stare at him.

Lestrade sighed again. She won’t believe him now. He turned to the oncoming pair.

“Hello Donovan, how lovely to see you,” Sherlock greeted her mockingly.

“Freak,” replied Donovan. She pointed at John. “Who is this?” she asked tactlessly.

Sherlock calmly answered. “This is John. Is everyone at Yard having their breakdown scheduled? Because I think today is the date.”

Behind him, John put his head into his hands.

“And what is he doing here?” she inquired next.

“Why, he is going with me at the crime scene.

“What! Absolutely not!” Donovan protested. She dangerously took a step towards Sherlock. “Listen, Psycho, I don’t care what you and your shadow are doing, you are both adults, but including children in it, that’s a step too far, even for you!” She pointed accusingly at Sherlock.

She looked around and then maliciously back at Sherlock. “And where is he anyway? Where is your shadow, your pet?” Sherlock involuntarily flinched at those words. “Perhaps you were too much even for him, perhaps …”

“Okay, Donovan, that’s enough!” Lestrade screamed. “One more word and you are suspended until further notice!”

Donovan opened her mouth, then thought better of it and shut it closed. She hadn’t lost her frown, though.

“Sherlock, he can’t go there. We don’t even have the safety gear for his – eh – size,“ Lestrade insisted.

“True,” Sherlock slowly agreed. He was openly pouting now, unhappy with the situation.

John tugged him by the sleeve. “Sherlock,” he said in a high-pitched voice, nailing the impression of a small child. It scared Lestrade a little how he could just put it on. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Sherlock slowly nodded, reluctantly heading to the crime scene, once of twice turning back, to assure himself that John was still there, before he was gone.

‘He doesn’t want to let John out of his sight.’ Lestrade realized. ‘He doesn’t want to lose him again.’ He smiled. ‘That’s so sweet.’

And with that he hurried to join Sherlock.

 

* * *

 

Now it was only Donovan and John here.

She crouched so their eyes were at the same level “What’s your name?” she carefully asked.

John studied her for a moment. “John,” he said slowly.

“Where are your parents, John?” she continued.

John said nothing, just shook sadly his head.

‘The Freak must have killed them,’ she thought scandalised. ‘Of course not,’ she shook it off. “Is there any adult who you could go to?”

“I can take care of myself,” John responded sulkily.

She looked at him, not really believing. “Sure you do,” she smiled. “I just want to take you to whoever might be worrying about you right now.” She leaned closer and grabbed his upper arm. “Where did he take you from?” she inquired. “We can take you away from the bad man,” she continued with growing urgency in her voice.

John quickly shook her off. When she tried to grab him again he shouted: “Lestrade, tell her to leave me alone!”

Lestrade and Sherlock rushed to John, leaving all of the people on the crime scene disgruntledly waiting for them.

“What happened?” Lestrade wheezed, having serious problem to catch his breath again. He stared enviously at Sherlock who seemed unfazed by their run.

John pointed at Donovan. “She doesn’t leave me alone,” he whined in his fake-childish voice. Then he started giggling. “She thinks you kidnapped me,” he told surprised Sherlock.

Now they were both laughing.

Lestrade sighed, not believing how they both could be so childish.

Donovan, on the other hand, just looked dumbstruck.

“I think -,” urged Sherlock when they calmed down a little, “that you should explain yourself.”

John folded his hands. “No,” he said stubbornly and stick out his tongue at Donovan.

“It’s John’s nephew,” Lestrade lied. “His sister is too busy and she has John and Sherlock looking after him. Unfortunately, John is on a medical conference right now, so it’s just Sherlock now.

Donovan regarded Sherlock derisively. “Who would entrust their child to you, of all people?” she asked disbelievingly.

“John would,” Sherlock replied. “Although I would be quite worried about your nieces and nephews, considering that –“

“That’s enough!” John roared. (Like a cute kitten.)

They all turned to him in a surprise.

So did everyone on the crim scene.

You are here for work, Sherlock, so act like it! Sally, try to be at least a tiny bit professional! And Lestrade,” he finished calmly, “help me.”

“If you just let John on the crime scene,” Sherlock protested, “we would be gone already.”

Lestrade scrubbed his face. “Okay,” he agreed despite Donovan’s protests. “Five minutes.”

 

* * *

  


John being on the place of scene encountered a mixture of reactions.

Some looked disbelievingly like Donovan, other resigned like Lestrade.

Anderson was plainly confused.

“John, what do you think?” Sherlock inquired.

John surprised everyone by immediately crouching next to the corpse, examining it.

It was a woman, young one, around 20 years old, with short brown hair. There was blood on her head and hands, and her eyes were closed. She hadn’t looked peaceful, though.

“What do you think?” demanded Sherlock after a while.

“Clear homicide,” John answered. He got up to his feet. “Most probable cause of death was blunt force by some heavy object directed at back of the victim’s head. Her skull shattered and the fragments stuck into her brain, causing the bleeding and inevitably, the death.” He frowned while examining victim’s fingertips more closely. “He attacked her up front, most likely to snatch her handbag or else but she fought against him, inducing distress in out attacker. The attacker hit her as a result of a desperation. By the vector and the area of the impact, I suppose he had done so by the grip of the gun.” He paused. “Why he didn’t just shoot her?” he wondered. “It would be much easier.”

Officers were looking at him in bewilderment. How could somebody, a small child especially, talking so casually about murdering someone and complaining about the killer’s technique.

Even Sherlock lifted one eyebrow, though for another reason. “He?” he asked further.

“By the amount of force and a fact that it happened in the broad daylight, it’s more statistically probable for our culprit to be a man.” John explained. He braced himself. “Get on with it.”

“Get on with what?” Sherlock quizzed.

“To tell me that everything I said was wrong and that I missed everything important.”

“On a contrary,” began Sherlock, “you only overlooked few secondary details. On the other hand, your hypothesis is sound and correct.”

John’s head snapped up and he eyed Sherlock. “Really?”

“Really,” Sherlock smiled. “Well done John.”

John tried not to blush so much but he couldn’t get it under control. Not since he became kid again.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade. “Arrest her fiancé.” And with John, they went together to catch a cab, deaf to Lestrade’s shouts.

 

* * *

  


“How did you figured it out?” John inquired as soon as they sat in their seats at their flat.

“It was quite simple, really,” Sherlock responded. (Git.)

“The victim had a noticeable mark on her left ring finger. That could be caused by wedding ring as well as the engagement one but it wasn’t so prominent yet. And the wedding rings tend to be wider. Also, taking her age in consideration and no signs of previous pregnancy, fiancé is more probable.” He stopped himself for a moment.

“They had financial difficulties, evident from victim’s clothing. Her partner was too proud to ask his or hers parents about a loan. He probably insured the ring for a considerable amount of money, making his plan. He dressed as a robber, threatening his fiancée with a gun, taking the ring, selling it and taking the insurance money as well.”

He leaned into his chair, continuing. “But she was too brave. She fought for her ring, he wanted to pacify her hitting her, accidentally a little too hard. She died. He panicked, dragging the body to farther to up the alley, then staging the scene – robbery gone wrong.”

“Are you going to tell Lestrade any of this?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Let him to figure it out for himself. He looked playfully at John. “After all, they already caught the killer, that clever bunch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lambkin – ultimate warm and fuzzy pet name; often used lovingly to refer to exceptionally sweet, innocent and young person  
> “Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king.”-Henry IV, William Shakespeare


End file.
